


Changes

by Wolfsbride



Series: Five F*cking Times by tayryn [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All aboard the angst train!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts), [LadyDuchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDuchess/gifts), [mysticmelodies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticmelodies/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Five F*cking Times](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995822) by [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/pseuds/tayryn). 



Bond clings to Olivia’s body and weeps. He has failed her. When it mattered most, he betrayed her trust in him. 

He holds her body close and curses how easily Silva died. He would turn and yank the knife from the bastard’s back and stab him a thousand more times, if it didn’t mean letting Olivia go. 

He presses his cheek to hers and whispers his love in her ear. He didn’t say it nearly enough. He hopes she knew.

He is vaguely aware of Kincade watching from a few feet away, but he doesn’t care. The man has seen him brought low before. True, it was many years ago, but the circumstances are the same. He has lost someone he cared for deeply. It seems as though people are always dying in his arms.

Bond shifts where he is kneeling, lifting Olivia higher against his chest. Her head lolls toward him, pressing her face against his neck. He freezes. It cannot be. And yet...

Lowering Olivia to the ground carefully, Bond turns on his knees and scrambles over to where Silva fell. Yanking the large knife out of the traitor’s body, he wipes it clean on his trouser leg and then crawls back to Olivia. Gently, he places the knife under Olivia’s nose, the back of the blade against the skin of her upper lip. 

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits a full minute before lifting it away. His hands tremble as he looks at the blade. There is a small spot of condensation where it was resting against Olivia’s nostrils. 

Bond drops the knife and with a shaking hand, presses two fingers against the pulse point of Olivia’s throat. It seems to take an eternity but eventually he feels a faint beat against his fingertips. He jerks his gaze up to Kincade. “We need a medevac. Now!”

Even as he says it, Bond feels despair closing in. They are at least a hundred miles away from the nearest hospital. Both his car and his home are destroyed, and with them any hopes of either getting Olivia to the medical treatment she needs or radioing for help. Even if the car had not been blown to bits, he doubts he would have been able to cover the distance in the time necessary. He’s a good driver but he cannot work miracles. If only he could.

Bond looks down at his hand. His fingers are still pressed tight to Olivia’s throat. This must be his punishment for being a government sanctioned killer. He is going to lose her again.

Distraught, Kincade clutches his cap and watches Bond. He’d only known Emma less than a day, but even at that he could tell she was a fine woman and that she meant the world to James. The last time James had lost someone near and dear to him, he’d changed from a boy to a man. He didn’t want to think what sort of a change losing Emma would bring to bear on a man with James’ obvious talents.

His thoughts race, trying to find a way to get the help they needed. Then he gasps. His cap falls out of his hands as he starts patting his pockets. The damn thing is in one of them.

Finally he finds it and fumbles it out of his cavernous pocket and into his unsteady hands. Moving toward James, he thrusts it over James’ shoulder, nudging him as he does so. “Here, lad. Here. Call for help.”

Bond looks up at Kincade, and then to the side, to see him holding a battered old mobile. Reaching up to take it from Kincade, Bond almost drops it, his hands shake so much. As he rings Tanner, Bond hopes that he will answer a call from an undisclosed number. 

There is a few seconds wait while the call connects. “Tanner, it’s Bond.” 

For a moment, he wants to jerk the phone away from his ear as Tanner bombards him with questions. “Tanner. Tanner! I need a medevac. M’s…” His voices breaks and he has to clear his throat. “M’s very badly hurt. Need it yesterday if you can manage it. Three people to ship out.”

Bond sighs in relief when Tanner gives him the affirmative. He knows Tanner will move heaven and earth to make it happen. Disconnecting the call, he hands the mobile back to Kincade and settles himself down on the cold hard floor, pulling Olivia onto his lap. 

Curling his body over hers, he feels for her pulse again. It is barely fluttering against her throat. “Come on, Olivia. Don’t give up on me now. Who’s going to kick my arse from here to Timbuktu when I get out of line?” 

His face grows wet and he feels as though he will drown in his tears. He stopped believing in God the day his parents died, but here, in the chapel, he prays as he never has before. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bond doesn’t hear the chopper arrive; he’s so focused on monitoring Olivia’s heartbeat. The tips of his fingers make little indents in Olivia’s skin where he’s pressing them hard against her throat. He’s trying to keep track of her pulse, which is getting weaker. It feels like he’s keeping her here by will power alone. 

He nearly breaks the hand that falls on his shoulder, only to realize it’s one of the paramedics kneeling at his side. The other two are standing back, on either side of a gurney, surveying the scene. He can only guess what he looks like, soaked to the skin, eyes red. 

The paramedic reaches for Olivia and Bond snarls at him.

“Sir? Please. We have to see her injuries. You need to let her go.”

The paramedic reaches out again and Bond pulls Olivia closer. He can’t... He needs... Look at what happened the last time he left her alone.

Kincade moves next to Bond and groans as he squats down beside him, his knees protesting the movement. He puts a hand on Bond’s shoulder. “Come on, lad. Let them do their job.”

Bond looks at Kincade, looks down at Olivia, and then back up at Kincade. Kincade nods and squeezes his shoulder. Shuddering, Bond reverently lowers Olivia to the floor. He still can’t bring himself to move away.

Cursing as he pushes himself to his feet, Kincade hooks a hand under Bond’s arm. “Come on. Up you get. Give them some room.”

Bond resists for a moment, and then lets Kincade pull him back. He doesn’t go far. 

As soon as he’s clear, the first paramedic starts to check Olivia over, while his colleagues move forward with the gurney and their equipment. He presses his fingers to the spot on Olivia’s neck that Bond had been touching, frowning as he does so. When he begins to cut away the sleeves of Olivia’s jackets and blouse, with a pair of scissors, Bond starts forward, only to be held in place by Kincade.

“Easy there, lad. They need to see where she’s hurt.”

His colleagues also kneel, one beside him and one at Olivia’s head. The second paramedic hands over a blood pressure cuff which he quickly wraps around Olivia’s upper arm. Slipping his stethoscope from his pocket, he puts in the ear pieces and the tucks the diaphragm under the cuff. 

He pumps the cuff up and then releases the air slowly. His frown deepens. He shifts the diaphragm a little and then inflates the cuff once more. 

The air wheezes out and the paramedic pulls down on the stethoscope so that the ear tips pop out and it hangs around his neck. He quickly undoes the cuff and turns to his fellow paramedic. “Blood pressure 64/39, pulse thready. Put in an IV cannula and get a saline bolus going. We need to get her pressure up.”

He nods to the paramedic who is kneeling by Olivia’s head. “Start her on oxygen,” he says as he begins cut through the rest of the fabric that hides Olivia’s injuries. 

Bond trembles. The man hasn’t said anything he doesn’t already know, but hearing it put into words, in that calm, efficient tone, really drives the point home. He knows they’re only doing what is necessary, but seeing Olivia lying there, so small and still, without the forceful presence that normally inhabits her body, fills him with dread. A flurry of activity around Olivia refocuses Bond’s attention. 

“Bullet wound to the hip. Excessive blood loss. Still bleeding sluggishly.” The paramedic takes a small two way radio out of his pocket. He pushes a button. “Hey, Rory? Radio ahead and let them know that we’ll need a transfusion, would you?”

There is a bit of indistinct chatter.

“Thanks, mate.”

Putting the radio back in his pocket, the paramedic wads some of the discarded fabric against the wound. He looks at his colleagues. “Right. Let’s get her on the gurney.”

His co-workers nod, then unfold the poles that lie on one side of the gurney and snap them upright. They each hook their equipment onto the poles, IV line and saline bag on one and the oxygen on the other. It leaves them both free to lift Olivia, while the first paramedic maintains pressure on the bullet wound. 

Together they remove the rubber coated mat that lies on top of the gurney, putting it alongside Olivia. The two of them lift her onto the mat as their colleague moves with them. They lift the mat all the way onto the gurney and rack the gurney up to its full height. After making sure Olivia is securely strapped in, they raise the side bars and make sure the gurney is ready for transport.

“Okay. Let’s get her out of here.”

As they start to wheel her out, Bond jerks away from Kincade and goes to the gurney. He tries to take Olivia’s hand but the sidebars are too high for him to do so comfortably as Olivia’s arms are now fastened down. He ends up slipping his hand through the bars and curling his fingers around hers.

The paramedic, the one who is trying to staunch the flow of blood from Olivia’s hip, glances toward Kincade. Taking the hint, Kincade approaches Bond and grips his arm. “Come on, then. Let them take her. We’ll be right behind.”

Bond’s fingers tighten. Right behind is not good enough. He won’t fail her again.

Sighing heavily, Kincade pries Bond’s fingers loose. Or at least he tries. Bond fights him. 

“James! Let her go. The faster they get her to help, the better her chances.”

Making a wounded noise, Bond lets his fingers go lax. His hand slips away and the paramedics roll the gurney along. Kincade follows with Bond, his arm around the younger man’s shoulder as Bond leans into him. 

Getting Bond settled in the back of the chopper is another ordeal. He keeps trying to get to Olivia. Kincade finally gets them both buckled in and then pins Bond to his seat by placing an arm over his chest. He hopes the ride is short.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When the chopper lands, the paramedics quickly disembark and start to unload the gurney. Kincade hangs on to Bond until they are clear. As they wheel the gurney away, he releases his hold. 

Bond struggles with his seat belt, then nearly tumbles from the chopper in his haste to follow Olivia. Kincade barely manages to keep up. The two of them crowd into the lift alongside the gurney and wait for it to take them down into the hospital. Kincade grasps Bond’s wrist. He can tell the young man wants to touch Emma.

The lift comes to a stop and the doors open once more. A trauma team is waiting for them and as soon as the gurney is pushed out, they surround Olivia, all talking at once but seeming to understand each other regardless. Bond makes to go after gurney as it is pushed away, but is stopped both by Kincade and a nurse who steps in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to wait here. Someone will be with you soon.” She gestures to a hallway that leads to a waiting area according to the sign. As she turns away, Kincade clears his throat to catch her attention. “Ah, miss?”

She turns back. “Yes?”

“Should probably have a look at the lad. Been soaked through for the last several hours.”

Bond turns a horrified look on Kincade and tries to protest as the nurse clucks in concern as she focuses on him properly. 

“I’m fine!” Though now that the adrenaline has started to wear off, he does begin to feel the cold and damp steeping into his skin and down to his bones. He tries and fails to suppress a shudder.

“Right. Come along then. Or shall I call an orderly to strong arm you?”

Bond sighs and follows, leaving Kincade behind.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bond is quickly deemed the hospital’s worse patient by both his doctor and the nurses charged with monitoring his vitals. It’s a struggle to get him into the standard ‘one size fits no one’ gown. He barely submits to the examination that results in a diagnosis of hypothermia. It is only when he’s completely encased in a warming blanket that he is brought under control. Barely. It takes Kincade sitting at his side and glaring to keep him from wrecking the blanket with his attempts to escape.

For his part, Bond is beyond exhausted and totally frustrated. No one will tell him anything about Olivia. It’s only the fact that Kincade is an old and dear friend that keeps him from punching the man out so he can reconnoitre. And even that constraint is wearing thin. Fortunately for Kincade, fatigue wins out and he slips into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time Olivia wakes, she is groggy from a mixture of pain and morphine. She blinks dozily and tries to focus but all that does is make her head pound. From the steady beeping of a machine and the smell, she can tell she’s in a hospital. 

She tries to speak but her mouth is dry and her throat hurts. She must make some noise though, as a blurry shape comes into her line of vision. Her mouth forms the word _James_ but she can’t manage to push it past her cracked lips. 

A cool hand touches her brow, then her face as – a nurse, Olivia assumes, checks her pupils. She moans as she tries to turn her head away but she is too weak to put up much of a fight. She slides back into unconsciousness, still trying to say James’ name. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Olivia fades in and out of consciousness, unaware of the passage of time. She has a fuzzy impression of people coming and going, but nothing really registers to her hazy mind. She drifts, buoyed by the cocktail of drugs she’s being dosed with.

When Olivia finally wakes completely, she feels less like she’s been wrapped in cotton wool. The down side, of course, is that her pain is more of a presence. She doesn’t mind. It reminds her that she’s alive; she survived Silva. But did James? She tries to remember but everything is vague and distant. 

Trying to recollect starts her temples throbbing and she’s just closing her eyes, when the door to her room swings open. Olivia doesn’t know if this is a new nurse or the same one from before, but she is checked over again and then given a few sips of water. Olivia is grateful because now she can get an answer.

“James?” She manages to whisper. 

The nurse frowns for a moment, then her expression clears. “Oh! There was a James here. Bond. James Bond. Average height, blond hair?”

 _Was here?_ Olivia forces back the panic and rolls her head in agreement.

“Yes. He was here for a few days, but then he was transferred out. Had a hell of a time getting rid of him, too. He left with two gentlemen. The older man that was with him is gone as well.”

Olivia’s heart sinks even as she’s relieved that James and Kincade also made it out safely. The two gentlemen James had left with could only be Tanner and Mallory. They’ve probably been tasked with making sure James doesn’t try to see her. 

She senses the Prime Minister’s hand in this. Clearly something, beyond the lost hard drive, must have set the higher ups off. Her head spins as she attempts to consider all the angles. Or maybe that’s the morphine. She is about to try and see if the nurse has any more information, when the door opens again, admitting a doctor this time. 

“Ah! Mrs Brown. Awake I see. How do you feel?”

Muddled as she is by the morphine, it takes Olivia a moment before she remembers that Mrs Brown is one of her many aliases. She barely refrains from rolling her eyes. And only because she suspects it would hurt too much. “Like I’ve been shot,” she retorts, rather impatiently. She never did suffer fools lightly.

The doctor clears his throat. He looks a little unsettled by the fact that his bedside manner was not well received, but he soldiers on. “Yes. Well. Gunshot wound to the hip. The bullet was lodged there. We’ve got you on a heavy course of antibiotics to clear out any infection and morphine for the pain. You’ll need physiotherapy once your hip is fully healed, but I believe eventually you’ll regain your mobility.”

Olivia tries to focus. “When you say eventually, what sort of time frame are we talking about?”

“At least six months. And that’s only if you adhere strictly to your physiotherapy routines.”

Sighing, Olivia gives herself a lecture on patience. She’s lucky to be alive. She shouldn’t complain. She’s contemplating the length of time she’ll be incapacitated when something occurs to her. 

“How long have I been here?”

The doctor checks her chart before answering. “It’s been four days since you were brought in. Your wound is coming along nicely but you’ll probably be in pain for quite a while. We’ll be monitoring the morphine but please let the nurse know if you become too uncomfortable.” 

With that he left Olivia alone with her thoughts. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, Olivia is finding it easier to concentrate on people and events. The rounds of doctors keep telling her how well she’s doing for a woman her age. She wants to hit them. 

They’ve moved her from ICU to a private ward. She knows it’s because she is the head of – she corrects herself – the former head of MI6, since it is probable they retired her while she was bloody unconscious, but it’s hard not to feel like a prisoner. 

It doesn’t help that she misses James terribly. She wonders how he’s doing. What he’s doing. Probably driving Tanner and Mallory mad. She speculates on whether he’s been told that she’s alive and comes to the conclusion that he hasn’t been. She has no doubt that if he knew she was alive; he would be here with her regardless of who was watching him. The door of her room opens and draws her from her thoughts.

“Speak of the devils,” she murmurs under her breath, as Tanner and Mallory enter. 

“Gentlemen.” She acknowledges them with a nod.

Glancing at Mallory, she notices that his arm is in a sling. She remembers his hand, firm on her shoulder, pulling her down and out of the way. “Thank you.”

Mallory shrugs. “I may have thought you should be retired, but never permanently.”

Olivia sees that he is sincere and resolves to try and let go of her bitter feelings. She’d told Mallory she didn’t expect to do the job forever, but it would have been nice to have been able to leave on her own terms. Water under the bridge now. 

“Not to be rude, but why are you here?”

“We brought someone to see you.” Tanner and Mallory both go to the door of her room. Tanner slips out and Mallory seems to be speaking to someone just outside the doorway.

Olivia’s heart starts to race. Perhaps she was wrong about James. When Mallory leaves the room, someone else steps inside. It is a man, but not the one she wants. The disappointment crushes her.

Reginald stares at her from the doorway. His face seems unable to settle into any one particular expression. He is wavering between confusion, disbelief, awe. Olivia isn’t sure but she thinks there may be a little bit of anger too.

She is awash with guilt. Not once since she woke has she given Reginald any thought. It is unforgivable. She cannot continue on this way. 

“Reginald. Please. Come in.” She speaks softly, as one would to a skittish animal. It seems appropriate as Reginald looks ready to bolt. 

He edges into the room, still staring and fumbles himself into the chair at Olivia’s bedside. “Olivia. You... Olivia!”

Olivia nods. She imagines it must be a dreadful feeling. To have everything you thought you knew turned upside down. 

“You were gone for longer than usual. I was about to ring the police when these two gentlemen came. They said you were...” Here Reginald’s gaze darts around the room as if he expects the walls to sprout ears. “They said you were the head of MI6!” His voice is hushed.

“Former head,” Olivia corrects. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to that. She’ll have to.

“They said you’d been shot in the line of duty! They made me read this horrendous document and swore me to secrecy!” Reginald vacillates between disbelief and excitement. Then he slumps like a marionette whose strings have been cut. “I never knew you at all, did I, old girl?”

Ironically, Olivia has never felt closer to Reginald than she does now. Now when she’s about to say the words that will remove him from her life. This is not how she pictured this scenario during the times when she did imagine it, but it can’t be helped. The charade has gone on long enough.

“Reginald.”

He looks up. Something in her expression must give her away because he straightens. “Yes, Olivia? What is it?”

 _I want a divorce_ seems so crass. So instead she says: “I think after I’m allowed to leave, I shall get my own flat.”

Reginald blinks. “What? But... Olivia.... Why?” 

“Oh, Reginald. It’s not like I was ever really there. Give the house keeper a couple of extra days and you won’t even miss me.”

To his credit, Reginald does not deny it. He merely looks sad. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I suppose I never did know what to do with a woman like you.”

He rubs a hand over his face and then looks Olivia over. “Can I.... Am I allowed to visit?”

“Of course.”

Reginald nods. “Right. I... I guess I should be going.” Getting up, he pats her hand. “Take care, darling.”

When he leaves, Tanner and Mallory slip back in. Tanner clears his throat, looks at Mallory and then back at Olivia. “There’s just one other thing. You’re being relocated. A special outpatient facility where you’ll be able to get the therapy you’ll need once your wound is fully healed.”

Olivia studies Tanner. He looks uncomfortable. “What aren’t you telling me?” She catches the look Tanner slips Mallory.

“Out with it!”

Both men jump and Olivia can’t help smiling.

Mallory sighs and tries to rub his forehead before being reminded he has limited manoeuvrability. “The PM is concerned about Bond. While he acknowledges that Bond is one of our better agents he feels his... attachment to you is detrimental. He hasn’t been advised that you’re alive.”

Even though Olivia had already surmised as much it still comes as a blow. Poor James. Though there is a very tiny part of her that is pleased Bond will get a taste of his own medicine. “The Prime Minister cannot be very concerned if he’s stooping to deception.”

“M,” Mallory is startled by his misspeaking and doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Takes getting used to, doesn’t it.” If her tone is a little snide, Olivia figures she’s entitled.

“Quite.” Mallory nods. “Let’s go, Tanner. We’ll need to make arrangements for Olivia’s transport.

Tanner gives Olivia a brief smile and follows Mallory out of the room.

Olivia watches them go, and starts to plan.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly - HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAY!!!
> 
> Secondly - Thanks to:
> 
> -Tay for the inspiration. I stole your title! I thought it was appropriate.  
> -Pers for the beta  
> -LadyD for being my medical consultant!


End file.
